This fic contains spoilers for the Assassin's Creed Novel: The Secret Crusade. You have been warned.

Please review so that I know what you think~

Malik was light in Altaïr's arms.

Too light.

The man he remembered had always been just a bit heavier, his shoulders slightly more wide-set than Altaïr's and his limbs heavy with muscles even after the loss of his arm prevented him from fighting on the front lines. This Malik, the one he carried, was thin and weak, his body lathered in scars of various ages and his face drawn out and tired. He barely had the strength to look up and offer Altaïr his classic "Took you long enough" smile.

Oh how Altaïr had missed that smile. He'd seen it first when arriving into Jerusalem during his quest to redeem himself, when the elder man had finally put the events in Solomon's temple behind them. "My, Altaïr, back so soon?" He would say, but the upturn of his lips would be mocking the time it took for him to return, making Altaïr strive to move faster through the Jerusalem streets every time.

It became like a game, like one of the crazy missions the informants would always request of him. Later, after Al-Mualim's death, the smile came to mean something else. When Altaïr, as the Assassin Order's new leader, would return from a day of long work, Malik would be waiting in his room, that same stupid grin on his face. It never failed to rile Altaïr up enough to rip off their clothes and ride Malik until neither of them had the strength to move. Then the Rafiq would wrap his single arm around the Master of Assassins, and they would fall asleep covered in sweat and seed.

With Maria came the time for Altaïr to marry. Naturally, he needed sons to continue his bloodline, and it did not put a dent in his relationship with Malik, as the older man had too married not long before. Maria was smart and strong, things Altair respected in a woman. She was no Adha, for sure, but Altaïr had learned long ago to put his first love behind him. They had two beautiful children, Darim and Sef, and Malik had one, Tazim.

But Altair had left Masyaf. He'd taken Maria and Darim and left on a Mission to assassinate Genghis Khan. The mission went well, even though Altair was gaining in years and could feel that his body didn't quite work as it once was. He'd left Malik in charge, his closest friend and lover; but when he'd returned…

"Altaïr, hurry, bring him inside."

Slipping past Maria, Altair entered the hidden room and set Malik down against the pillows. The older man just laid there, limp, his eyes sliding shut; and for a moment Altaïr's heart raced in fear he was going to die. But then his eyes opened and his dry lips spoke in a voice Altaïr barely recognized, "I didn't kill Sef… I didn't kill your son…"

Altaïr's heart broke in remembrance. A man should never be forced to outlive his son, for nothing was quite as heartbreaking. "I know," was the only answer he could give. It wasn't Malik, it was Abbas. Abbas had had his son killed in order to frame Malik and get him out of the way so that he could run the order. He, like so many before him, had fallen victim to the pull of the Apple of Eden.

"It's okay, Malik. You'll be safe here."

The older only scoffed, "I was weak… it wouldn't have happened to you."

"Don't say such things. You must rest." Altaïr's lips pressed into a fine line. "I should never have left you alone…"

"I'm not a child, Altair. I-" A fit of hacking broke off the man's sentence.

Altaïr placed a glass of water to his lover's chapped lips, "Rest, Malik. I'll protect you, he won't hurt you again; I'll see to that." He only received a tired smile as the older allowed much needed sleep to carry him away.

"Altaïr," spoke Maria behind him, "Come, let him rest. We must put this issue with Abbas to rest."

"I agree," the Master Assassin stood, his fingers itching to pull out his hidden blade, "He must pay for Sef's death, and the treatment of Malik." With equal conviction, the two left, leaving Malik alone to sleep in peace.

But that peace was short-lived.

A dark figure slipped into the room and made its way over to the sleeping Malik, the assassin to weak and tired to respond as he was trained. A man, clad in the same assassin robes that would make Malik call him brother, gripped his fingers into the one-armed assassin's hair and pulled him up into a sitting position. Though Malik woke with a start, he reacted slowly, his eyes focusing on the man who held him before his lips turning into a light smile, "Here to finish the job, Swami? Has Abbas clouded your mind with that treasure?"

The other figure said nothing, slamming his hidden blade into Malik's chest and then dropping him back into the bed and reaching for his sword. Malik groaned, feeling death's cold embrace. "At last, Kadar… I join you."

The last thing he saw was Swami's sword swing down upon him.

"Abbas! Explain yourself!" The true Grand Master of Assassins called out as he and Maria stormed into Abba's newfound office.

"Explain myself? Master, I have only ever pined to serve you and in your honor; what could you possibly be speaking of?"

"I speak of the mistreatment of Malik; who I left in charge here, not you. I speak of the death of my son that you plotted!"

Abbas only looked mildly surprised, "Me? The evidence all pointed to Malik, and so I had him put in jail. The crime of killing a brother, let alone the son of our great leader, could not go unpunished."

"And it won't." Altaïr's hidden blade leaped from its sheath, and he prepared to jump forth and end the existence of the snake before him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you~" mused Abbas.

"Altaïr!"

Altaïr turned to see a figure with its sword to Maria's neck. "Swami," Abbas spoke, "Impeccable timing. Did you bring what I asked for?"

"Of course," the figure spoke, tossing a burlap sack onto Abba's desk. The sack was red and leaking with blood, it splattered over Abbas in little dots, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Good good, Swami is my most talented assistant. I guess he could say he's my you, Altaïr." The mocking grin on the man's face only angered Altaïr even more, but he couldn't strike without risking Maria's life. "Now let's see, ah." Abbas reached into the sack and pulled out the lifeless, decapitated head of Malik Al-Sayf.

Altair felt his heart stop and his knees go weak. The blood must have drained completely from his face, because Abbas' lips turned up in an accomplished grin.

Everything went downhill from there. Altair could hear nothing but screaming in his head, little did he know the sound came from his own mouth. Blinded by pure rage, he leaped out to kill the man before him, only to hear a different scream behind him as Swami's sword ripped through Maria's neck.

"MARIA!" Altair spun too late to save his wife, and she crumpled to the ground, "MARIA!"

"You were too weak, Master." Abbas drove his sword through Altaïr's back, and watched him fall to the ground. "Do not worry; I will protect the order in your stead, and the templar treasure."

But Altaïr wasn't listening. His eyes were locked onto Malik's head, discarded like a piece of trash. The man's face was peaceful, that damn grin still plastered on his lips.

"Took you long enough."

"Ma…lik…" Altaïr gathered the last of his strength and pulled himself to his lover's disembodied head. He took it in his arms and held it close to his chest, his nose digging into the black hair and taking in as much of the man's musky scent as he could. Oh, how he'd missed this smell. How he'd yearned for it, knowing that it would be here, waiting for him, when he returned home.

His eyes closed and he pretended that he was back in bed with Malik, that this pain and weakness were due to a night of long lovemaking, and that if he'd just go to sleep, he'd wake in the morning and everything would be okay. Malik would be there, alive and smiling at him. Maria and Sef would be alive. He'd be the Grand Master again, and when the time came for Genghis Khan to die, Altaïr would vouch to stay in Masyaf and watch over things while Darim and Maria took care of it.

Life would go on, peace in a time of chaos, and Altaïr would lock the apple of Eden away where no one, especially Abbas, would be victim to its pull.

Yes, that was how it would happen. A smile graced Altaïr's lips, even as his body grew cold.

Everything would be alright, when he woke up in the morning.